


Missing You Comes in Waves, Tonight I'm Drowning

by Lyoung_50



Category: The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Angst, Cancer, Character Death, Dad Malec is Best Malec, I should not be writing this right now, M/M, Married Life, Not Immortal Alec, Terminal Illnesses, Weird pacing and formatting abound, i didn't beta this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-05-31 12:51:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19426357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyoung_50/pseuds/Lyoung_50
Summary: They'd planned for Alec to die in battle, for the trauma that would come along with that. They hadn't planned for that not to happen.They didn’t plan for them having kids, and being married, and living their lives together.He really hadn’t prepared to have to live with the memories of decades of anniversaries, birthdays, and Tuesday night dinners on the balcony together. The picture of Alec with a tea towel slung over his shoulder and Frank Sinatra playing softly in the background while he tossed a sauté pan full of beef, broccoli and marinade easily with one hand was one that was particularly burned into his mind. The way those devastating blue eyes had peered over his shoulder and flared up with light when they saw Magnus would never fail to make him weak in the knees.Magnus really wished they'd prepared for this.





	Missing You Comes in Waves, Tonight I'm Drowning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [consulalexander](https://archiveofourown.org/users/consulalexander/gifts).



> I haven't edited this.
> 
> Write sleep-deprived and edit never. We die like men.
> 
> The wife is to blame for this entirely.

They’d discussed it a hundred times. 

What Magnus was supposed to do if Alec didn’t’ come back from a mission. If a group of Shadowhunters showed up at their loft to offer their condolences and tell him how it went down. 

What they hadn’t prepared for was that not happening. They didn’t prepare for Alec getting to grow old (at least in the Shadowhunter sense of the word) alongside Magnus. They didn’t plan for them having kids, and being married, and living their lives together. 

He really hadn’t prepared to have to live with the memories of decades of anniversaries, birthdays, and Tuesday night dinners on the balcony together. The picture of Alec with a tea towel slung over his shoulder and Frank Sinatra playing softly in the background while he tossed a sauté pan full of beef, broccoli and marinade easily with one hand was one that was particularly burned into his mind. The way those devastating blue eyes had peered over his shoulder and flared up with light when they saw Magnus would never fail to make him weak in the knees. 

He wasn’t warned that he would have to deal with mental images of Alec crouching in front of Rafe, running his thumb over a scraped knee during training and murmuring soft reassurances to the boy that was sniffling up at his father or that he would have to watch Max paint Alec’s fingernails with his tongue poked out of his mouth in concentration while his pudgy blue fingers drew the brush along short, well-kept nails, getting far too much paint on skin for it to be clean. 

In hindsight, Magnus really wished that Alec had prepared him for that. 

Alec’s exit from the world had been peaceful. As quiet and precise as the man himself. His hand had been curled around Magnus’ with the thrum of machines in the hospital room singing the background notes of their conversation. 

“I’m not ready.” Magnus had whispered, tears etching their way down his cheeks that were as unwrinkled and pristine as the day they’d met. Alec’s calloused fingers had traced the tears down to wipe them away. 

They’d heard about the virus not even a week before. It was something that had mutated in the bodies of mundanes so that it could jump to Shadowhunters. The disease was most closely comparable to mundane forms of cancer and was not something that they’d ever been subjected to, so the underprepared bodies of several Shadowhunters had been torn apart within a month of developing it. 

“We’re never going to be, Magnus. But, it’s time to be serious about this. It’s not going away, even your magic can’t touch it.” His voice, even thin as it sounded, was the most soothing sound that Magnus had ever heard. 

“Well, they’re not ready yet either.” Magnus jerked his head toward where Rafe and Max were curled together on the uncomfortable couch in the corner. “Our boys need their Daddy.” 

“Magnus,” Alec chuckled softly, the sound ending with a gentle cough. “They’re grown. We turned them into amazing men, and they have their Papa to make sure that they don’t forget why it’s important to keep being good men.” 

They’d had forty-three years. Forty-three years with each other, decades of raising their boys and waking up to each other every morning. 

“I just,” He swallowed reflexively around the knot in his throat. “I thought we’d have more time.” 

Alec had simply run a hand over his cheek, pulled him into a kiss, and murmured to Magnus that they had forever as long as he remembered him. 

That’s when it had started. 

Magnus purchased a new camera and several memory cards. He carried it everywhere with him and took pictures every time he could. Before he knew it, he had several memory cards stacked up. 

Hidden in them were pictures of Alec sitting at the head of their table, his palms flat on the wood with a large cake between them and the boys with their arms around his shoulders. Max was leaning with his head against Alec’s, his blue curls tangling with his father’s messy hair. Rafe, on the other side of him, had one arm looped around Alec’s neck and the other hand buried in Max’s hair. Alec’s birthday. 

It had been Max’s idea originally, to fit every holiday throughout the year into one month. Magnus had, predictably, been all for the idea. Less predictably, Alec had also been enthusiastically on board. There had been a few brief moments of planning before they sprang into New Year’s Eve, complete with confetti and a tabletop version of the Times’ Square Ball. They’d poured glasses of champagne, had their own countdown, and when the ball dropped, Magnus had kissed Alec breathless in their kitchen, much to the protest of their boys. Even though they’d complained, Rafe had made sure to snap a picture of their kiss for Magnus. 

After that night, the weeks had flown by. They’d snapped photos of Valentine’s Day with a large bouquet of roses in Alec’s outstretched hand. They had Halloween with the four of them dressed as Disney characters and posing in from of the pumpkins that they had carved on the table. They’d had Thanksgiving, huddled around a table with a turkey in between all of them. 

Then they’d had Christmas, all of them clad in garish sweaters, and leaning in front of the blue and gold decorated tree. Max had a Santa hat perch between his horns and Magnus was holding mistletoe above his head with a lewd smile aimed at a blushing Alec. 

Magnus remembered that one for the half-asleep look that Alec had given him that night when they’d collapsed into bed and Alec had whispered a soft “thank you” into the darkness between them. Magnus had leaned in, his hands on either side of Alec’s face, and brushed kisses over the lids of his half-closed eyes while whispering that Alec didn’t need to thank him. 

The next morning he’d filled nearly half a memory card of photos of the way that the sun curled over Alec’s bare chest against their bedsheets. When Alec had woken to the sound of the shutter, he’d given Magnus that devastatingly handsome smile against the pillow with his wedding band catching the early morning light, and Magnus had snapped a photo that he would forever consider his favorite photo of his husband. 

Photo after photo after photo he’d taken. 

Alec swinging gently in the hammock they’d purchased for the balcony, Alec sitting on their sofa with Izzy beside him and Jace and Clary curled together on the loveseat with smiles on their faces, Alec shirtless and scowling at the coffee machine for working too slowly. Little moments in time that etched themselves on the memory card and on Magnus’ heart. These were the things that he knew that he would miss the most. These were the moments that had imprinted themselves on their home, making it what it was for their family. 

The last photo on the last memory card was nearly one month to the day from when Alec had received his diagnosis. The picture was of the four of them on their couch, Alec was in the middle with his arm around Magnus, who was tucked tightly to his side. On Alec’s left, the boys were leaning against each other in a tight embrace. Alec’s other arm was stretched around them both. 

It had been Alec’s request. It’s how Magnus had known that it was their last night together. Alec had hugged his sons tighter than he ever had, and he’d let them soak his shirt with tears. They both told him how much they loved him over and over, and Alec repeated the sentiment every time. 

He and Magnus had stayed awake until morning, clutching each other in an desperate embrace. Alec had gotten thin with the illness, and the knobs of his spine poked into Magnus’ arms, but he ignored it. If it was the last time he was going to hold his Alexander, he’d be damned if anything was going to change that. The sun had just started to crest the skyline when it happened, 

It took thirty days for Magnus’ eternity to come to an end. 

Now all he had were his photos and the few videos that he’d taken on his memory cards. It takes years, but he gets to the point where he can get out of bed without a crushing weight against his chest. 

When he does, he starts taking clients again, he goes to lunch with his boys, he even spends time with the Shadowhunters he’d come to love so much. He gets back to functional. 

Some days he’s almost okay. 

Other days he feels like he’s being crushed under the weight of the sadness that drags him under while he flicks through the pictures on repeat. 

He really wished that Alec had prepared him for what the unpredictable waves of missing him would feel like. 

He wished that they’d prepared for him for feeling like he was drowning.


End file.
